


Drowning The Pain

by VampireHydeFTW



Category: Versailles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7841902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireHydeFTW/pseuds/VampireHydeFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masashi's life had become a dark one, the bar providing the only escape. Here he could forget his troubles and let go of his sorrows. If only until the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning The Pain

He ate his dinner alone, in perfect silence except for the ticking of the clock. This was how his meals always were now. His wife no longer waited for him to return home, knowing that he would say in the office until the security guard politely asked him to leave. That had been before he had given up entirely. Now he didn't bothered turning up for work at all. This morning he had been fired, but as he never spoke to her she didn't know. No matter, they were rich enough to live of his money for their entire lifetime. Rich enough for their child to have done the same. Had he not been still born.

The child's death had destroyed him. He had been the reason he had married, despite not feeling any desire for anyone at all. He had been the reason he had listened to his wife when she shared stories from her day. He had been the reason he had cared about the woman. Yet his wife had been unable to bring the child into the world, and he couldn't forgive her.

It was cruel of him to hate her for the accident, and it made him feel guilty. Even so he couldn't let it go. It was good that she didn't talk to him, he no longer had anything he wanted to say. Not to her, not to anyone.

The food before him was unappealing, the chef's cooking getting worse perhaps? Or his appetite less. He didn't finish the meal, simply getting up and walking away. His mansion had become a prison and he couldn't bare to stay in it's walls a moment longer.

He ended up in the bar, as he always did, and drank until his sorrow became a distant ache. The distance ache was still too much, so he drank another and another until the bar closed and he stumbled out into the street. By now everything was just a blur.

 

Masashi woke up with the familiar sensations of a pounding head and nausea, stumbling into the bathroom just in time to empty his stomach into the toilet. He was a mess, he knew that, but he no longer cared. Things would have been different had his son being born, but he hadn't and they weren't.

Grabbing a whisky bottle from the counter he took a mouthful to relieve some of the worst and curled up back in his bed. Here he lay for the majority of the morning, conscious though he might as well have been still asleep.

“Dear, you need to get up,” his wife scolded from the door way. She was a pretty woman, a couple of years younger than him, with a kind smile. She wasn't smiling now, she was angry with him. Not that Masashi cared. He cared about nothing now. “This has gone on long enough. I know you are in pain. The accident hurt us both. We need each other, but all you do is rely on drink.”

“The drink is all there is that can ease the pain,” Masashi replied, “Who are you to tell me what I do with my own body?”

“I'm your wife!” she exclaimed, “I love you and won't stand back and watch you destroy yourself. I heard you've lost your job? Please Masashi, just let me in.”

“It's your fault you know,” Masashi snarled at her, “It's your fault our son is dead!”

“It was an accident,” she said, no longer hurt by his words. She'd heard them a dozen times before. “I didn't intentionally slip and fall down the stairs, but I think you know that. It's not me you hate is it?”

“If you're here to lecture me, I suggest you leave,” Masashi ordered. With a sigh she walked past his bed, pulling open the curtains and letting in the sun. With a groan he pulled the covers over his head, ignoring his wife as she tidied away his things. It wasn't until he heard the sounds of two glass bottles clinking together that he reappeared.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, catching the sight of two half empty bottles of whisky in her hand.

“Cutting you off,” she answered. “This has gone on long enough. You are not to drink any more, I'm removing all the alcohol from the house. Your father is cutting off your money and I've already confiscated your bank card. Until you admit your problem, until you get help, you will have to ask me if you want to purchase anything.”

“You can't do this!” Masashi snapped, “Who do you think you are?”

“Your loving wife,” she answered, “Now get dressed, your father is downstairs and wishes to talk to you.”

 

Masashi reluctantly appeared in the doorway of the grand reception room, refusing to speak to either of the people who had betrayed him. Without a word he took his seat and stared out of the window, wishing the sun wasn't so bright as it was hurting his eyes.

“Masashi, can't you see we're worried?” his father asked. He was a kind man, wise in his years and not prone to anger or petty revenge.

“This is what he does,” his wife explained, “Ever since...”

“It's all right Mika,” the older man reassured her, “You don't need to explain.”

“So this is my grand intervention?” Masashi scoffed, “Mother didn't want to come?”

“Your mother wanted to be here, as did your siblings and your friends,” his father corrected, “I turned them all away. You get angry under peer pressure. I've always respected that, you stuck by your beliefs.”

“And now my belief is that I want to drink,” Masashi answered, “But this bitch has taken my drinks and my money.”

“You will not use such language to describe a lady!” his father scolded, “You will apologise.”

“Will I?” Masashi asked, glaring at his father until the older man backed down.

“Mika and I have done this for your own good,” his father answered, “Perhaps when you've had some time to sulk you will see the mess you have made?”

 

In the end Masashi had given in and attended his first meeting. Silently sitting in the back as other members shared their sorrows. The twelve steps were listed on a poster on the wall. Step one, admit he had a problem. Perhaps he did, but this group wasn't going to help him overcome it. Not when the second step involved him believing in a power greater than himself. He was not a religious man, and if he had been he certainly wasn't going to give himself over to a power that had taken his son.

Angrily he walked out, passing the bar and sighing. He needed a drink, which meant he needed money. With a frown he paced outside, debating things until finally he reached in his pocket and pulled out the paper containing a phone number. A man had been flirting with him in this very bar last time he had been. Perhaps he would treat him to some drinks? He no longer cared about the price.

His life quickly slipped into a routine. He would leave for the meetings, much to the delight of his wife, but hook up with anyone who had taken a fancy to him before. As the days passed it took more than kisses to obtain alcohol, but he always went further. Perhaps this was the deepest he had ever sunk, and many a night he had come to terms with how desperate he was. His alcoholism was a problem, but he wasn't ready to quit. At least now he knew why he had never truly wanted his wife.

He'd been living this way for a few months before he had ended up in the poorest parts of town, giving his ass willingly for that night's beer money. Some men gave him pleasure, others only took their own. As long as he got money he didn't complain. Tonight was one of his worst clients, but he was easy to please. Pulling down his trousers he bent over the edge of the bed and allowed the pervert to take what he wanted. It hurt when he was with this man, who wasn't even that attractive, but he was all he could get right now.

It was over in minutes and money was shoved in his hand. Not hanging around Masashi slipped out of the grotty apartment and headed back to the bar. Not even noticing the blond man watching him from afar.

 

The next morning he woke up with his familiar symptoms, as well as a sharp pain. Surprised he wandered into the bathroom, noticing two small scratches on his neck. How he done this? He couldn't remember much of the night before, he'd drunk more than he could usually afford.

Carefully he rinsed off the dried blood and found some antiseptic wipes to clean the area. The wounds had already scabbed over, so he made no effort to cover them. He went about his normal morning routine quickly and walking downstairs for breakfast.

Mika was waiting for him, glaring angrily as she knew that he had been out all night. She had no idea how he was still able to drink and had given up trying to stop him. Even so she had refused to give back his bank card, something that was a sore point between both of them.

“I need money for some new boots,” he informed her after giving the chef his breakfast order.

“Another pair?” she demanded, “Didn't you just buy some?”

“I want these ones,” Masashi informed her, “Should I tell my father that you are refusing to let me spend my own money on clothes? While I'm at it I'll make sure to tell him all about that new dress you came home with just the other day.”

“I didn't say you can't have them,” she protested. “I suppose I have a few hours this morning when we can go into town.”

“The dress really suits you,” Masashi complimented her, picking up the paper so he could pretend to read it and not have to talk to her any more. Surprised by the sudden compliment Mika finished her own meal in silence, wondering if perhaps for the first time they were making progress.

 

He ordered another beer, feeling a little confused. This would be his fifth drink, but he didn't feel any different at all. The pain was still impossible to bare, though perhaps not what it had once been. His need to get drinks was a welcome distraction from the darkness, though just as self destructive.

“You know alcohol wont' remove your sorrow. It never has,” a blond man said as he sat on the bar stool beside him, “Don't you remember last night?”

“No,” Masashi answered, “Let me guess, you took advantage of me? Many do. I don't care.”

“Well yes, but not how you think,” the blond answered, “Can we talk outside?”

“I'm drinking,” Masashi answered, “We can talk here, or not at all.”

“That beer will do nothing,” the blond said, ignoring Masashi's attitude. “When you want to know why meet me outside. Seeing as you probably don't remember, I'll give you a piece of information right now. My name is Kamijo. ”

 

“What have you done to me?” Masashi demanded. He'd found Kamijo easily, perched on a low wall in sight of the bar. He'd been waiting a good hour, but looked like he could have happily sat there all night.

“I've made it so drink doesn't have any affect,” Kamijo answered, “But that I think you figured out. I've been watching you, enough to know that drastic measures were needed. I can't let such a handsome man throw his life away. I took it instead.”

“Are you drunk?” Masashi asked, “Or perhaps you slipped me something and now I'm high?”

“I took it,” Kamijo repeated, opening his mouth to reveal two long fangs. Startled Masashi reached up to the scabs on his neck, finally figuring out the source.

“What the hell are you?” Masashi demanded, backing away from the monster before him.

“What the hell are we,” Kamijo corrected, “You're like me now, Masashi. Like I said in the bar, I did take advantage of your drunken state. Just now how you would have thought.”

“What did you do to me?!” Masashi shouted, loud enough that a couple across the road turned to look.

“Don't worry, you won't need blood for a couple of months,” Kamijo replied, ignoring Masashi's fear and anger, “A new vampire survives on his own human blood for quite awhile.”

“Vampire,” Masashi whispered, once again touching the scabs on his neck. He felt used and betrayed, worse than he ever had prostituting himself. What Kamijo had done to him would be entirely unforgivable, if it hadn't been his own fault. He had a drinking problem, thanks to Kamijo he did not.

“You are so handsome,” Kamijo complimented him, “Enough to warm my cold heart. I will lay my claim on you, sooner or later. Once my version of an anti-addiction program is complete, and I know you are entirely yourself. The addiction is gone, the danger is gone, alcohol means nothing to you now.”

“Then what else is there for me?” Masashi demanded, enchanted by the vampires fanged smile.

“You already know step one,”

 

Masashi stood before the mirror, relieved he still had a reflection. Everything he had known about vampires seemed to be a lie. Sunlight didn't affect him, garlic smelt as it had always done and he wasn't afraid of the cross. The only truth in the myth seemed to be his fangs. It had hurt for them to grow the first time, and he had struggled to do so, but now he could slip them out just by thinking about it. At some point he would need to drink blood, but he pushed the thought aside. He would need Kamijo's guidance to do that, and he didn't feel like spending any more time around his vampire guardian. It still freaked him out to realise that the vampire had been watching him. For how long? Did that even matter?

Slowly he entered the dining room, earlier than normal and catching Mika enjoying her meal. For the first time he smiled as he took his usual seat. She was surprised, and wary of his change in attitude and he felt a little guilty. How much had she been suffering? As much as him, more? With his need for drink gone he could finally focus on what was before him. It was a picture he didn't like.

“I had a problem,” Masashi confessed, “You were right.”

“Does that mean you've given up drinking?” Mika demanded. She didn't trust him, he couldn't blame her.

“I won't be drinking any more,” Masashi reassured her. Delighted she jumped up and threw her arms around him. She was proud of him for wanting to change, and would be there for him if he needed her. Except he didn't need her at all. He didn't hate Mika, never had. He just couldn't love her. “I want a divorce.”

“What?” Mika asked, her smile fading as she returned to her seat. “Now? I thought we were making progress, at long last.”

“I'm attracted to men,” Masashi said simply, “It's because we're making progress I can admit it to you now. It's not fair on either of us to live this lie any longer.”

“I always suspected,” Mika admitted, her shocked pain fading into sympathy, “This is a day I've feared all the time we've been together, now it's come I'm relieved.”

“You're not angry?” Masashi asked, “You seem almost happy.”

“I guess I am,” Mika confessed with a sad smile, “This last year we've been together, it's been hell for both of us. I had no idea how we could ever recover, but now I know we were never meant to. I've been a good wife, haven't I? I've done all I can, but you could never love me as a husband should. We can fall apart, and that will be that. Neither of us are to blame.”

“That's the first time in our marriage that you've said something that makes me want to love you,” Masashi confessed, feeling suddenly shy. It was true that they had never connected, their marriage more out of a sense of duty than anything else. He was from old money, as was she. It had simply made sense at the time.

“And I think perhaps this is the first time you have trusted me enough to be truly honest.” Mika answered, her voice filled with joy, without a trace of spite.

 

The divorce procedures were put in place, with a limited amount of legal input as they agreed between themselves the financial matters. Masashi was to keep the house and the bad memories that went with it, but they had finally managed to make some good ones here too. He had shown Mika his prized guitar, playing music for her most nights. She had stopped gossiping with him, talking about her love of gardening instead. The change made her far more approachable to Masashi, who suddenly realised he enjoyed being with her.

Just over two weeks later Kamijo appeared on his door step and warily he invited him in. He knew Mika was curious, but assuming Kamijo was his boyfriend she had made her excuses and vanished into her own rooms upstairs.

“So, you completed the first step?” Kamijo asked, “Have you seen the darkness that was in your soul?”

“I've completed the first step,” Masashi agreed. Leading Kamijo into his living room he sat down, noticing that Kamijo was looking at his guitar.

“What about the second one?” Kamijo asked, smiling at Masashi's confusion, “You need to fill the void. What are you doing in the time you would have previously been drinking? I've barely noticed you outside this house.”

“I've been spending time with my wife,” Masashi admitted, not missing Kamijo's disappointment in the answer.

“The wife you don't love,” Kamijo finished, “That doesn't sound healthy.”

“I love her,” Masashi found himself correcting Kamijo. It was true, but he hadn't really thought about it until this moment. “She's like a sister to me. We talk and it's easy, we share our hobbies and she tells me her hopes and dreams.”  
“You're living a lie,” Kamijo scolded, “That's half the problem.”

“She knows everything,” Masashi said, feeling defensive now. “Not about you, the whole vampire thing, but that I like men. I told her. We're getting a divorce, if you must know. Don't come here and tell me I'm living a lie.”

“I'm sorry,” Kamijo apologised. “I jumped to conclusions. That was wrong of me.”

“Music is filling the void,” Masashi confessed, deciding that Kamijo genuinely had been trying to help him. He trusted this man, who had taken his life, though he wasn't sure that it was right to do so. “I should get a job soon.”

“Don't,” Kamijo ordered, “Not with humans at least. Right now I'm allowing you to keep your human existence, but you can't stay like this forever. Eventually you will have to join your own kind.”

“What does that imply?” Masashi demanded, “Where will you be taking me?”

“Nowhere,” Kamijo said gently, “Just you will adjust to a nocturnal existence, contribute to the vampire society that exists alongside humanity. Really it's no big deal. Not for a man who lost his friends.”

“I suppose not,” Masashi admitted. He had the privilege of being able to live without contributing anything at all. The choice of living how he choose. Kamijo might ask him to take on a vampire's life, but he didn't have to. “What's left was taken by you.”

“There was nothing left,” Kamijo said, “Haven't you figured that out yet? You were a mess, so I ended it before a tragedy.”

“Just tell me your next step,” Masashi ordered. He was growing tired of Kamijo's smug attitude.

“Forgive her,” Kamijo answered, “She has done you no harm.”

 

“Well, he was handsome,” Mika prompted, clearly desperate to hear more.

“On the outside at least,” Masashi muttered. He knew exactly what Kamijo had been telling him, and it made him angry. What right did Kamijo have in prying in his business? What right did Kamijo have to learn about the death of his child?

“You don't like him,” Mika realised. “Well then, next time he arrives should I tell him you're not here?”

“I don't think he'll be coming around too often,” Masashi answered warily. “But thanks for offering.”

“If he causes you trouble let me know,” Mika ordered, “I'm not having you returning to that bar, after you've been doing so well at staying away.”

“I never did thank you,” Masashi said, nervously wrapping Mika in his arms, “For trying to protect me from myself.”

“You weren't ready to,” she replied. Gently laying her head on his chest. They sat like this for awhile, neither saying a word. It was a comfortable silence for once. No hostility left between them. Could he forgive her, for taking his son? Perhaps, but not yet. That was going to take more time.

 

“So, what do you think?” Mika asked as they stood in the hallway of her new home. Their divorce had taken a little over a month, and he was almost sad to see her go. They had become friends now and this wasn't going to be the end. Just a new beginning, if Kamijo allowed it. No, even if Kamijo refused to let him see her, he would. Kamijo had no power over him. He was just a thief who had stolen his life.

“It's smaller than you're used to,” Masashi answered, “But I suspect you valued the huge garden more than inside space.”

“It's going to be the most beautiful of gardens,” Mika agreed. “You'll be so jealous you'll want to live here too.”

“I don't think so,” Masashi said, “But perhaps I will visit.”

“No, you will visit!” Mika exclaimed, “It's not good for you to wander than huge home alone. Please promise me that you'll call me any moment you feel down? I care for you Masashi, I don't want to see you destroying yourself because you were too proud to call.”

“I'll call you,” Masashi promised, “If I ever feel like I'm about to give in to despair.”

“I've always blamed myself,” Mika confessed, “If I hadn't lost our child....”

“It was an accident,” Masashi said gently, believing it this time, “It's not your fault.”

“You always blamed me,” Mika scolded, “Even as I lay at the bottom of the stairs, screaming in fear, you blamed me.”

“I was wrong,” Masashi corrected, “That was the moment you should have walked away from me. You were too good.”

“I held onto hope,” she corrected, “What's done is done, and we can't change it. No matter how much we want to.”

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Masashi apologised. For his own sake, not Kamijo's, he had found forgiveness in his heart.

 

Kamijo was waiting for him on the doorstep when he returned. As if he had known that now was the right time to come and see him. It made Masashi wary to think that Kamijo had been watching him again. Perhaps it was nothing but a coincidence? Kamijo had never done anything to hurt him. His intentions really did appear to be that of a guardian.

“Would you like to come in?” Masashi asked, leaving the door open behind him as he wandered into his lounge. Ignoring Kamijo he picked up the guitar, playing Mika's favourite song to fill the empty house with noise. He felt at peace at long last, and glancing up he shared a smile with Kamijo. “You saved me, I never did thank you.”

“I'm a stalker, a killer and my intentions have always been to claim you as my own,” Kamijo listed. “You're really thanking me?”

“I don't want to be alone,” Masashi confessed. “Holding onto anger, pain and hate are a bad habit I'm now trying to break.”

“Nobody wants to be alone,” Kamijo said gently, “From the moment I saw you I knew you were the one I wanted to help break my solitude. I should have stopped and wondered how that would make you feel.”

“You're as broken as I was,” Masashi realised. Kamijo refused to answer, so he began a new song. An old lullaby from his childhood, a simple song that he could play without thought. To his surprise Kamijo began to sing, his voice like a haunting melody filling the room.

Slowly he placed the guitar to one side, moving next to his vampire creator and kissing his softly on the lips. It was a kiss filled with need and desire, returned in kind. Even so they pulled apart, shyly smiling at each other as Masashi asked Kamijo what song he wanted to play next.

 

Kamijo quickly filled Mika's absence, though he spent time with her as well. Slowly they began to know each other, understanding each other on a real intimate level. This was what true desire felt like, it was both magical and scary all at the same time.

He was introduced to other vampire's in the area. Hanging out with many of Kamijo's friends as the days passed. His favourite was a vampire named Yuu, who preferred to wear feminine clothes and used the name Jasmine more than his own. He'd been a kabuki actor before he died, playing the female roles. It had been his best friend who had become a vampire first, changing both Jasmine and another actor named Teru shortly after. He'd met both Teru, and Jasmine's creator Hizaki, and knew they were both good men.

Then there was the vampire Yuki, very much like himself. He had been Kamijo's first creation, and was intensely loyal to the older vampire. Masashi had found himself jealous at first, before realising Yuki had a lover of his own. After that they had managed to become friends.

Accepting the vampire life became easy for him after that. He fitted in well and found genuine happiness after so long living in misery. Nobody judged him for his past, nobody really cared.

Then came the day his own human blood ran out. Hunger pains had started in his stomach and a lust like emotion filled him whenever a human approached. Gently Kamijo had shown him how to seduce a target and drink just enough not to cause serious harm. The blood trance left the human vulnerable, so they had been careful to make sure the humans they had chosen were in a safe place before vanishing into the night. When the trance was over they would remember nothing. Questioning how they had hurt their neck, just like Masashi had once done.

It was on their second night on the hunt that Masashi had invited Kamijo home with him. His intention was clear, for he had made no excuses. Simply kissing Kamijo before asking the question. The vampire had agreed, adorably trying not to appear too eager. Masashi had been teasing him the whole way home, both verbally and sexually. So it was no surprise to find himself pushed down onto the sofa the moment they entered the home.

“You, young vampire, should learn your place,” Kamijo scolded as he lay down on top of Masashi. With excitement Masashi allowed Kamijo to kiss him, pondering how long had it been since he had allowed a man to use him.

It soon became clear that Kamijo's intentions weren't just to use him, like many had. The vampire was gentle, compassionate and unwilling to cause him any pain. Even the first nights he had been with men, when he had dated them for drinks, he hadn't felt this way. The difference was love.

“You smell like an orchard,” Kamijo whispered, nipping Masashi lightly with his fangs as his mouth hovered just above the dark haired man's neck. “Your smell always has been intoxicating to me, but it's nice not to have it clouded with alcohol.”

“You smell good too,” Masashi confessed. He could recognise his lover's scent from across a room, though he couldn't quite name what it was, “Like roses, and vanilla and something else that I can't quite place.”  
“Is vanilla what you want?” Kamijo teased, biting Masashi's neck this time. With a gasp Masashi clung to the vampire above him, going into a blood trance instantly. He knew without asking that this was different to what a human would experience. He could feel Kamijo's emotions, his joy and pleasure and pride. They were connected, and when Kamijo pulled away he didn't forget a thing. Desperately he kissed Kamijo on the lips, ignoring the fangs as they cut into his lip. He could taste his own blood, not at all unappealing now that he was a vampire.

“Are you going to kill me again?” Masashi teased. Pouting Kamijo pondered the question before shaking his head.

“Not this time,” Kamijo promised. They kissed again, happy to be together with no rush to demand more just yet. “Perhaps if you don't please me.”

“Are you serious?” Masashi demanded, suddenly worried.

“Dropping your clothes and bending over while I do all the work would be bad,” Kamijo answered, “I know more than I should I'm afraid. I doubt you plan to do that this time.”

“How do you know all this?” Masashi asked, “Did you really stalk me?”

“That was an accident,” Kamijo corrected, “I was on the hunt and saw you in an alleyway doing just that. As bad as you were sexually, and really I can't judge you for that, I was entranced. Are you still mad?”

“No,” Masashi admitted, “Though perhaps I should be.”

“I say you shouldn't,” Kamijo corrected. Laughing Masashi claimed Kamijo's lips once more. The vampire had crossed more than a few moral lines over the last few months, but that didn't mean his intentions had ever been wrong. Far from it. The vampire's heart had always been in the right place.

Reaching up he helped Kamijo out of his shirt, admiring his smooth skin. Reaching up he ran a finger lightly over one of Kamijo's hard nipples, loving the way it made the vampire react. It was clear Kamijo was sensitive to his touch and he took advantage of it. Teasing Kamijo until the vampire let out a quiet moan.

Gently Masashi moved himself out from beneath the blond, undressing quickly and kneeling on the sofa with his head rested on the back. His body was on offer to the blond, as he had once been used to giving it. He saw Kamijo's hesitation, but the vampire simply accepted that this was how he wanted to do this. As he watched Kamijo undressed, retrieving condoms and lube before he allowed his trousers to fall to the floor. He was gorgeous, stunningly so. No wonder his vampire maker, a French woman named Alisanne, had chosen him. He couldn't blame her in the slightest, pitying her for not realising Kamijo could never return her love.

Fingers slipped inside him, and he pushed his hips back for more. He found himself verbally encouraging Kamijo, begging for more. He'd never been vocal, but he needed Kamijo to know just how much he wanted this.

Fingers changed to a hard length and he just let himself feel. His hips moving in time with Kamijo's thrusts, his gasps and moans genuine without a need to fake anything. This was so different to what he had known. The kind of sex that he wanted to repeat over and over again.

He lost it seconds after Kamijo began to stroke his length. His body in shock at the added pleasure. He cried out the other's name, moaning louder and louder as Kamijo thrust harder and harder into him. He knew the other was close to his climax, and instead of relief he just felt even more connected.

He moved around, falling into Kamijo's waiting arms as he they sat together, chatting about everything and nothing all night. This was the house that had caused him so much pain. Now it was the house where he had felt his greatest joy. It wouldn't be long until he was fully healed, and it was all thanks to the man who had stolen his life before alcohol could.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The other night I had a dream. Kyo (Dir En Grey) and Masashi were breaking into a military style base to retrieve documents that would save Ruki's (Gazette) life. As Kyo is bypassing the doors security codes he turns to Masashi and promises him “I won't let you die, remember when we first met?” The dream jumped to a flashback where Masashi is in a bar, a bottle of beer in each hand (the premium kind) and a confused look on his face. Behind him Kyo is watching, mocking Masashi for not realising that now he was a vampire he could no longer get drunk. He'd been saved from alcoholism through death. 
> 
> This was the inspiration for this story, but as I don't like Kyo I switched him with Kamijo. I just couldn't get the idea out of my mind. You may find that my opinions of Alcoholics Anonymous are less than favourable. If you don't believe in a higher power, then you're really going to be stuck following the 12 steps. (Apparently the modern groups are less religious, I won't know). There are alternatives, in Masashi's case it just happened to be vampirism.


End file.
